


Jasmine, Gardenia & Lavender

by MillionDollarTeddyBear



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Accidental Cuddling, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Boys In Love, Couch Cuddles, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dorks in Love, Fluff, Insomnia, Insomniac Merlin, M/M, Platonic Cuddling, Romantic Fluff, Sleepy Cuddles, University
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-22
Updated: 2020-03-07
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:27:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21524470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MillionDollarTeddyBear/pseuds/MillionDollarTeddyBear
Summary: Merlin Emrys, a pre-med student at the world-renowned Albion University, is rather happy with his new roommate. Arthur might seem like a massive clotpole at times, but he's nice and caring and rather fit too, which is a bonus. When Arthur brings up the fact that Merlin, a true insomniac, isn't getting enough sleep, the Emrys bloke doesn't really know what to say. \He surely wasn't expecting them to start sharing a bed and cuddle together.Oh well![Fluffy/Sweet/Falling in Love]
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 34
Kudos: 223





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Craig and the Cuddle Bro](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12517024) by [Littlemarkimoo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Littlemarkimoo/pseuds/Littlemarkimoo), [Vicky30312](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vicky30312/pseuds/Vicky30312). 



> So, this work is sort of inspired by "Craig and the Cuddle Bro" which was written by Littlemarkimoo and Vicky30312 and is honestly such a sweet and fluffy fic! It's going to follow a similar premise of "bros who cuddle", and I'm excited to write a fluffy and sweet Merthur fic! c:

It had been two months since Merlin had started living with Arthur. In those two months, he had gotten to know the blond very well and they’d fallen into a wonderfully harmonious synch in which they managed to keep their flat clean, have everything in order, cook for the two of them and make time to crash and watch some random comedy or schlocky action film together.

It was a welcome change from Merlin’s former living arrangement, He’d formerly roomed with a bloke named Cenred who was every bit the egotistical tosser that the image his name conjured suggested. Merlin had been fine with it, or well, he’s been able to tolerate it, mostly because he didn’t have to deal with Cenred all that much. As an undergraduate pursuing a pre-med degree at Albion, no doubt one of the world’s premier universities, he was no stranger to long lectures, extra courses and training programs, long lab sessions and extensive essays, so he spent a lot of time away from home, be it studying in the library or holed up in one of the corners of a cafe he frequented, taking notes on his textbook amongst the cozy smell of roasting coffee beans. 

When he’d come back to their shared flat Cenred had usually come and gone. He had a girlfriend, Morgause or Morgue or Morigause or...something with an M-O-R-G in the mix, who Merlin had met once when she’d been brought by Cenred to their place. She had wavy blonde hair and her eyeliner was thick and overly drawn if you asked Merlin, but she seemed pleasant. He particularly liked that Morgause always wanted to hang out with Cenred so his roommate was barely ever at their place, instead he spent his time at Morgause’ who didn’t have any roommates of her own. 

So, Merlin could easily cuddle up with his laptop on the comfortable and long sectional in their living room and get some more studying done without having to deal with Cenred and his frequent rows about how his father (“my dad’s one of the  _ most  _ respected lawyers in the country, did you know that, Merlin?”) didn’t want to buy him a new sportscar after having crashed one about a year ago or how his classmates were all “inept dickheads with shite for brains”. Honestly, Merlin had been contemplating sending Morgause some sort of thank you note for getting Cenred’s insufferable arse out of their flat. 

But then, out of nowhere, Morgause had broken up with him. “She said I wasn’t serious about our relationship. Just because she caught me  _ having sex with her friend Vivian _ ? I mean, it’s not  _ my fault  _ she kept saying she wanted to wait to fuck,” he crassly proclaimed one day when Merlin had made the error of asking him if he was going to spend the night at Morgause’s place. “She’s such an uptight  _ bitch _ , mate,” his roommate had declared, chuckling and smiling wide at Merlin as if expecting him to agree. 

Merlin had thought that he could manage, really, he had hoped at first. But after having to endure another one of his roommate’s long rants about whatever topic, he had deemed it too much to bear. It turned out that Merlin’s assessment hadn’t been as deep as it could’ve been: Cenred was also remarkably racist, Islamophobic, homophobic and bigoted in every sense of the word if his gruff tirades against the recent Megan Markle and Prince Harry wedding or his retelling of the events of him being “ogled at” by a guy that Cenred deemed “too gay” in his class. 

It was a miracle when Gwen, his fellow pre-med classmate, and closest friend, had told him that now that she was moving in with her boyfriend Lance (who was an absolute sweetheart), his former roommate was looking for someone to take up Lance’s former room. 

“His name’s Arthur and he might seem a bit like a prick but when you get to know him he’s rather nice,” Gwen had described to him one late night spent studying at her shared flat with Lance. Now that Cenred didn’t have Morgause the tables had turned and it was Merlin who was spending more and more time away from their flat. 

Lance had vouched for his former roommate too, telling Merlin that he was his mate from his Eton days and was a good guy. Merlin had been desperate to get out of his living arrangement with Cenred so, at the confirmation that no, this Arthur guy _wasn’t_ a suspected murderer, he had agreed to let Lance call up Arthur and tell him that he knew someone who was interested in sharing the flat. 

They’d met up a Thursday afternoon when Gwen accompanied him to Lance’s former flat to meet Arthur. Merlin’s first thought when the door opened to reveal Lance’s former roommate had admittedly been “ _ Oh my Lord who is this fairytale prince god angel? _ ”

Arthur Pendragon, as the bloke introduced himself, was too good-looking for it to be legal, Merlin had determined. He had a head of golden blond hair that was unfussily combed away from his face, and a handsome face with regal features and an Aquiline nose. An angular jaw and pouty pink lips, mesmerizingly dazzling blue eyes the color of the Mediterranean’s waves. Fit and tall, Merlin’s eyes didn’t miss how the fabric of his artfully mussed up button-down strained across the fit form of his biceps. 

He’d broken out of his entranced stupor though and as Arthur gave him a quick tour of the place, he found that he was liking it more and more. The furnished bedroom that would be his was larger than the one he currently had and the place was very well-decorated and nice. He’d have free access to the entire place, including Arthur’s “beloved” German state-of-the-art espresso machine. As they made their way around the place Merlin determined that Arthur seemed nice enough, albeit a bit stilted in their social interaction, but Merlin would readily admit he was an anxiety-addled awkward mess so he was in no place to judge Arthur. 

No less than a week later Merlin was moving in. 

Since then, Arthur and he had gotten along swimmingly. The other was a business major who was studying at the Aurelian Pendragon School of Business which, after Merlin’s slight frown and subsequent chuckle of “ _ Pendragon, haha just like you _ ”, he’d soon found out was named in honor of his grandfather who’d been a major benefactor of Albion. It turned out that Arthur was one of  _ those  _ Pendragons, a majorly wealthy and famous family who’d been some of Camelot’s greatest business titans for centuries. Despite his upbringing, Merlin found that Arthur lacked a lot of the qualities he’d assumed someone of that economic stature would have. He wasn’t overtly standoffish and arrogant like Cenred had been, seeming more like he was  _ embarrassed  _ to have been found out so early on by Merlin. 

They’d gotten along well regardless. Arthur laughed at Merlin’s pun-filled jokes and Merlin had learned when to give Arthur some space, particularly after the blond argued with his father. He’d learned that Arthur’s relationship with his father, a man named Uther, was a surly one, with Uther never being present while Arthur was growing up and yet having exalting standards and excruciating demands. 

Merlin didn’t mention too much of his own family. Just told Arthur that his father had never been in the picture and that his mother had always been a lovely woman. He strayed away from mentioning her current state, instead directing their conversation toward a different topic whenever it came up. 

Merlin was growing to like Arthur more and more and was rather enjoying their blossoming friendship. He’d texted Arthur one day that he was going to be arriving late to their flat so that he wouldn’t worry and to know that he had his key with him just in case Arthur was going to head out anywhere. He had a late class that evening and needed to meet up with some classmates for a presentation in their microbiology seminar due in two weeks. 

His whole body felt tired and Merlin was dreading that he had let time escape him and hadn’t eaten anything since the granola bar that Gwen had given him hours ago (“you look like death, Emrys, honestly, we’re going to go out one of these days!”) and an apple that his classmate had offered him while they’d worked on the presentation at her place. He was hungry, immensely so and his stomach grumbled loudly in the relative quiet of the flat’s foyer and was already feeling mild annoyance at the thought of having to make some food.  _ I think I have some veggies? Maybe I could make some stir fry?  _ he pondered in his mind, frowning a bit. He wanted to go to bed though, honestly, he felt worn out and haggard and the prospect of ditching his basic human need for sustenance seemed ever more appealing when contrasted with the comfort and warmth of his bed and fluffy pillows. 

So, grumbling about how he needed to take care of himself more and how annoying it was that he needed to prepare some food, Merlin had shucked off his sneakers and his denim jacket, hanging the latter on the coat rack and started heading off to his room. He rolled his shoulders, trying to ease the tension he felt in his spine as he walked, only to be greeted by a chipper and apron-wearing Arthur who stood in the kitchen doorway. 

“Hey!” Arthur had greeted, rather cheerful and a tad too loud for Merlin’s tired brain, prompting him to jolt away slightly. “Oh, sorry mate. Didn’t mean to startle you,” Arthur immediately apologized, cheeks flushing, “I...well, I got your text about how you were going to be out studying till late and...well, I mean, I didn’t know if you ate, you might’ve already eaten and that’s totally fine but…,” Arthur rambled, “Well, I made some food.”

Merlin wanted to personally phone the Vatican. They needed to fast-track the canonization of Arthur as a saint, surely he deserved it for the sumptuously delicious ravioli that he had prepared and for the side of garlic parmesan green beans too. St. Arthur, the patron saint of being the best person that Merlin had ever met.

He voiced that exact praise to Arthur as he, somewhat ravenously, ate from his plate, earning a small laugh from the blond. 

“It’s hardly saintlike to make some food,” Arthur had protested, gaze flitting away. 

“You’re a godsend, Arthur, honestly,” Merlin insisted with a beam. 

He had repaid the kind gesture when Arthur had told him that he was going to spend some time with his sister who was visiting from Switzerland. Merlin had waved him off, bidding him a nice afternoon, before plopping down at the island in the kitchen and cracking open his public health textbook and, once more, began poring over his studies. 

He’d felt rather beat-up after nonstop classes and assignments and had been having a lot of issues sleeping, but that wasn’t swaying him from reading over yet another chapter as he nursed a cuppa. Insomnia was an issue that plagued Merlin and he was no stranger to long and restless nights, twisting and turning as he tried to find some position that would finally allow him some rest. The buzzing thoughts in his head about his studies wasn't helping his situation either. 

Despite Gwen’s constant demands that he take a breather and stop killing himself over his classes, he still kept at it. Late-night study sessions by himself poring over his textbooks and his laptop, illuminated in the white glow at three and four and five till the sun was up. It wasn’t something that he was proud of but Merlin counted a night of three or four hours of sleep as quite successful. The previous night he had spent anxiously reviewing all his notes for his microbiology class, trying to work on some upcoming activities and assignments not yet due as his mind replayed on a constant loop that he was probably going to get a failing grade on the presentation. He’d thought a lot about his mother too, even if he tried not too. It hadn’t been until three a.m. when he saw his reflection in the screen of his laptop-weary, glazed-over eyeballs-that he decided to call it a night. 

Crawling into his bed, he’d tried everything: slowing down his breathing pattern, focusing on the silence of his bedroom, droning out all thoughts, _counting bloody sheep_. But none of it had worked, at least not until around 5 a.m. when his body seemed to have given up and he’d finally fallen asleep. 

His alarm had rung at 7:30 sharp, giving him enough time to get ready and eat something before heading to an early public health lecture that was being taught by a reputed academic that he’d registered for. “You’re  _ psychotic _ , Merlin!” Gwen had cried out when he told her that he was taking that class as well despite his already heavy course load. She’d tried to convince him to drop the class but he’d insisted that it was an amazing opportunity to get to take a public health class from one of the WHO’s most respected epidemiologists. 

It was around 2 a.m when he took a break, having previously just stopped to go to the loo and plug his charger into his laptop. His eyes were hurting and he’d taken out his contacts, donning his round glasses instead. Merlin had always been picked on for his glasses and had grown some sort of aversion to wearing them, never getting over the comments on his appearance when he wore them. He’d splashed some water on his face and had returned to the kitchen, feeling his limbs heavy and a dull ache in his bones. Sighing, he felt his stomach grumble a bit and the hunger persisted even after he heated up the leftover panini he had bought from a sidewalk bistro the day before. 

And that’s how he started baking. He knew his mother’s famous treacle tart recipe by heart and it had been the dessert that characterized his youth. Sweet and delicious, Hunith’s homemade treacle tart had always been his favorite thing in the world. He hummed lightly to a song playing on his laptop as he moved around the kitchen, hips swaying slightly with the rhythm as he moved, thankful that they had all the ingredients needed, making quick work as he focused his mind on baking instead of the nagging tiredness behind his eyes.

Soon enough, the dessert was in the oven. The sweet aroma filled the kitchen, a sugary and warm perfume in the air that reminded Merlin of his youth, of afternoons as a boy spent sitting on a countertop and singing mirthfully to a children’s song as his mother prepared his favorite dessert. She would always smile widely at him when he asked if he could have a scoop of ice cream with his slice of treacle tart too and she’d nod, kissing his cheek warmly as she returned to heating up the syrup over the stove. He wished she could see him, moving around the kitchen as if he was some professional, making the same treat that she had always baked for him as a kid.

Wrapped up in the thoughts of his mother as he stood, leaning against the counter beside the stove, he didn’t hear when the door to the flat opened. He didn’t hear the quiet and light footsteps that came to a sudden stop at the kitchen doorway. 

“Oh. I thought you were asleep, I was trying to make as little noise as I could.”

Merlin startled slightly, looking up from where he’d been pensively staring at the floor to meet Arthur’s blue eyes. Bright and lively and warm, a perfect celestial shade of cerulean, the gentle color of forget-me-not blossoms, the rich azure of a cloudless sky. 

Clearing his throat, Merlin felt a flush rise to his cheeks at the realization that he’d been staring at Arthur. “Oh, no, no, you’re fine. I-I was just...I don’t sleep all that well so I was doing some late-night baking, I suppose.”

The blond had a strange look on his face. He looked...confused, a bit worried, but the look erased itself from his handsome face, replacing it was a small smile. “Well, it smells lovely, Merlin,” the blond had chuckled, propping himself against the frame of the entranceway. 

“Treacle tart,” Merlin informed, “My mum’s recipe. It’s just got less than ten minutes and it’ll be ready to pop out to cool.”

Arthur nodded. “Look at you. Who would’ve said that the great medical student Merlin was a baker too?”

Chortling, Merlin shook his head, “I just know how to make it because my mum always made it for me when I was a little boy,” and, suddenly realizing that he could’ve potentially opened the door for more questions regarding his mother, he quickly followed it up with, “Do you want a slice once it cools?”

It looked like the blond was thinking it over for a moment but his face broke out into a wide grin not a second later. “Why, I’d be delighted to try the baking masterpieces of Chef Merlin. Let me just get dressed in something comfier and I’ll be right out, yeah?”

Merlin nodded and Arthur was off to his room to change clothes. Just a few minutes more and he pulled the pie out of the oven, surveying it with a proud feeling in his chest and leaving it to cool before he too went to his bedroom to change out of his t-shirt and jeans. He came back out in a big sweatshirt with their school’s coat of arms on it and some pajama pants, getting some plates and a serving knife out. 

Arthur and he had gotten into the habit of watching a period detective show on Netflix on the large t.v. in the living room together whenever they could make the time for it and that was what Arthur suggested when he emerged from his bedroom some minutes later. Some blond hairs sticking up in the back of his head, Arthur had on what looked like an old sports jersey and some joggers, “Want to watch another episode of Eglantine?” he asked, poking his head into the kitchen, smiling gently.

“Sure,” Merlin replied. He was already up and probably not going to get any sleep that night anyway,  _ to hell with it all _ , he mused in his mind.

Upon hearing the other's agreement, the blond had let out a small cheering sound, nodding, “I’ll set it up then, see you there!”

Merlin had chuckled at Arthur’s retreating figure, serving some hefty slices of the tart, still warm and smelling delicious, onto the plates. He added a scoop of ice cream that he’d bought last week too and entered the sitting room just as the upbeat jazz-like saxophone and string orchestral music of the show’s theme began. He handed the blond his plate and spoon and took a seat on the couch beside him, their shoulders some centimeters away from brushing along one another.

The procedural nature wasn’t anything new: the protagonist detective would learn of some crime, would go and try and suss up some information while she skirted around the police and the handsome constable who would chide at her for intervening in “ _ an active investigation, Mrs. Grammer. _ ” There would be some chase sequences sometimes, the main character pursuing a lead and getting into quite a situation, side plots with her oddball friends or her lady’s companion. It was easy for them to get lost in the familiar structure and the nice visuals and treacle tart (Merlin was proud to say that he thought it turned out  _ remarkably  _ well). 

It was easy to watch the show with Arthur, a comfortable thing, to laugh lightly at the comedic parts and to murmur together about who they thought had broken into the ambassador’s home as the protagonist followed a lead to a situation that seemed rather dangerous. Merlin felt his body relax into the couch, feeling more at ease, and before he knew it the episode was over and Netflix was starting up the next one. They let it begin, once more the theme music played before a scene involving a murder inside an haute couture atelier took place. 

“You mentioned that you don’t get that much sleep,” Arthur stated, voice sounding measured as he remained turned towards the screen.

Merlin’s eyes widened slightly but he too remained watching the show. The main character was preparing to head out for a dress fitting with her lady’s companion who Merlin was already betting was going to have a romantic storyline with the handsome constable’s ne'er-do-well younger brother. He was turning out to have a heart of gold and the same dreamy bedroom eyes as the constable. 

“Oh, yeah,” he replied simply, not really knowing how to reply to Arthur’s statement. 

Arthur asked, sounding slightly cautious, “Does...does that happen often?”, as if he didn’t know it was a topic that it was okay to broach. 

Merlin let out a deep breath. “I guess, so, yeah,” he answered, extending his arm to set his empty plate on the table, feeling how Arthur’s gaze now followed him. “I’m fine though, really,” Merlin assured, though he didn’t know how much he believed that himself, turning to look at Arthur.

The blond looked conflicted. Like there was something he wanted to say but was holding back, his expression open and blue eyes flitting between the t.v. where the plot was unfolding as the designer at the atelier was speaking with the main character, tone worried, about the murder of one of his most beloved models, and Merlin’s face. The Emrys man wondered how tired he must look in the bright glow of the t.v. with the concealer that he always used to try and hide the signs of his weariness having been rid earlier when he washed his face. He hoped he didn’t look to cadaver-like. 

“Do you know why you don’t get all that much sleep, Merlin?” Arthur asked, lifting a brow slightly as he shuffled in his seat a bit. 

Merlin pulled his gaze away from the other’s face and instead turned toward the t.v. again. He pulled his legs up onto the couch, collecting them toward himself and wrapping his arms around them. “Not really, no. Just can’t get to sleep most nights, I lie down and I toss and turn but I just can’t fall asleep,” Merlin described with a sigh, shaking his head slightly. 

He didn’t want Arthur to worry about him. He didn’t need that, need to be such a burden on his roommate, Lord knows that Gwen already worried too much about him. He knew Gwen was a worrier though, always had been, and had too much of a caring heart to not be alert when she noticed Merlin’s fatigued saunter or the way he seemed to get dazed and lost, thousand-yard gaze centered on a wall. Gwen would always fuss over him, tell him to get some sleep, brew him a cuppa and send him off to lie down, encourage him to take a nap, wrap him up in blankets like he was a child. Lance got worried too, not only because he cared about him as an extent of Gwen but because he was just as much a gentle-hearted kind spirit as his girlfriend. But Merlin didn’t want Arthur to start worrying too.

Arthur remained quiet for a few seconds, moments that felt like they stretched for eternity, until he spoke again, asking, “Is there anything that helps?”

“That helps me sleep, you mean?”

“Yeah.”

“Don’t really know,” Merlin replied, worrying his fingertips across his knuckles as he tried to remain as casual as he could, focused on the t.v. show and all the amazing production elements and the swaying fringe of the protagonist’s dress. 

“If there’s anything that I can help you with just let me know,” Arthur said, making Merlin turn slightly so their eyes met. Startling cerulean and celestial azure, gazing into one another. 

“Thanks, Arthur,” Merlin replied with a small nod and an even smaller whisper of a smile on his lips before ducking his head slightly and turning again to watch the show. 

The topic died after that, with Arthur not asking any other questions and the pair remaining attentive on the plot unfolding on the television screen. The protagonist and the constable were able to solve the crime, as they always were, Taking advantage of the atelier’s information on their high-net-worth clientele, one of the seamstresses had orchestrated a series of thefts of priceless antiques from their homes. She had murdered one of the fashion house’s models after she had confronted her about her crimes and had threatened to go to the authorities. 

Another episode started, this one involving a murder at a hotel. Merlin didn’t quite follow the plotline for the episode all that well, feeling ever more and more drowsy. He felt a soft and fuzzy feeling in his body, easy and gentle relaxation and he sighed gently. His eyelids grew heavier and the last thing he remembered was how he felt rather comfortable and warm before he fell into a deep sleep. 

◈◈◈

When Merlin woke up, it happened slowly and gradually.

Like a fizzy feeling dissipating away, he felt himself wake up, much different than the usual excruciatingly shrill sound of his alarm that would make him instantly sit upright and jump out of bed. He felt warm and sleep-groggy, remaining in the position that he was for a little while longer. And then, he registered just how different the situation really was. 

For starters, upon opening his eyes, he realized that he was in the living room, not in his bedroom. The curtains were still closed, allowing just a renegade sliver of sunlight to filter in, and there were two plates on the surface of the coffee table in front of the couch. The couch, he was lying on the couch as well, in a rather awkward yet comfortable position: legs somewhere between pulled up towards his chest and splayed along the other end of the couch, and he felt warm, rather warm, warmer than he should’ve without a blanket. 

And that’s when he noticed. The arm wrapped around his shoulder, bringing him close. The soft and steady beat of a heart against his ear. The shape of a body beside him. And when he tilted his head slightly lower, yes, those were a pair of legs clad in navy blue joggers, the same ones that Merlin knew made Arthur’s arse look particularly ogle-worthy. When he tilted his head slightly up, yes, that was, in fact, Arthur Pendragon that he was cuddled up against. 

Arthur looked rather peaceful as he slept. His golden lashes were nearly invisible against his fair skin and his blond hair was a ruffled adorable mess. There were some more spikes, unruly tresses that had peaked up on the left side of his face. His pillowy pink lips were slightly open and he looked so soft, so at ease. Arthur was leaning against the fluffy cushions on the back of the couch, one arm around Merlin, holding him close to his side. 

Oh, God.

Merlin, with the careful precision that he hoped would one day become a beneficial trait in the medical field, managed to slowly extricate himself from the position. He gently grabbed at the sleeve of Arthur’s shirt and lifted his arm, sliding under it and delicately placing the other’s limb on the couch. His eyes remained trained on Arthur, hoping to not wake the blond, mainly because he didn’t know what he would say to explain away their position. He managed to get off of the couch without any hassle and without making much of any noise. Arthur remained sound asleep, breathing even and slow and eyes shut. 

Letting out a deep sigh, Merlin made his way to his bedroom, trying, and failing, to not think about what had occurred. 

He had just woken up cuddling with his roommate on their couch. 

And it had been the first time in recent memory that he was able to sleep soundly through the night. 


	2. 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the long wait, you guys! Still, I'm really happy to share with you guys the second chapter of Jasmine, Gardenia & Lavender featuring insomniac Merlin and his newfound pillow Arthur ;D

Merlin was very much not _avoiding_ Arthur, despite all the evidence to the contrary. 

Sure, he’s spent the great majority of his Saturday morning holed up in his bedroom with the door locked and had absolutely evaded leaving his room, but no, _it didn’t have a single thing_ to do with the handsome blond that he’d woken up with on the couch. 

Alright, well, maybe he was avoiding him a _little_. 

There were about a million thoughts flying around Merlin’s mind, something that surely wasn’t helping in him analyzing the situation and thinking clearly. It was to be expected though, he always overthought things and got into an anxiety-induced cycle of picking apart everything and then having to start anew and then declaring that he’d ruined it all again and starting over. 

Merlin sat on his bed, legs crossed and eyes flittering between his phone screen and the door to his bedroom as if Arthur would barge in any moment now. He was trying to get lost in his Instagram feed, something that he usually did with little to no effort, scrolling past pictures of little porcupines dolled up in bonnets and comic-style illustrations by fellow fandom nerds. The activity wasn’t proving very successful as his mind wandered back to that morning when he’d woken up, staring blankly at the video on his screen of some puppies on a trampoline. 

“It was literally, nothing,” he murmured to himself, letting out an aggravated sigh. 

And it really was nothing. They’d fallen asleep while watching the telly in the living room while sharing the couch and somewhere in the night they’d gravitated to one another. They’d ended up closer than maybe was customary for them and had slept soundly until Merlin woke up and extricated himself from the sofa and from Arthur’s nestling embrace. Sure, maybe they hadn’t really done anything like that, but it didn’t really matter. _People gravitate towards warmth in their sleep_ , Merlin thought, _so no wonder we just naturally got closer, right?_

There was also the fact that Merlin wasn’t even sure that Arthur knew they’d been cuddling while they slept. Merlin had been the first to wake up and Arthur hadn’t even stirred when he’d gotten off the couch, so it was quite possible that the blond was none the wiser. He probably had no clue that they’d slept in such a close position, right?

But what Merlin’s mind kept coming back to was how well he had slept. 

Merlin was no stranger to restless nights. To rolling around and adjusting his pillows and taking off blankets or putting them on, all in the struggle to find a position that his body would simply submit to sleep in. He would spend hours awake in his bed, eyes glazed over but unable to sleep as he stared up at the ceiling, fixated on some minuscule detail that he found there, trying to focus all his attention on that until his consciousness would slip away and he could rest.

Nothing ever really worked, nothing. He’d fall asleep until his body seemingly gave up, only two or three hours before his alarm would blast its shrill sound to alert him that it was time. He’d wake up feeling more tired than before and his limbs feeling sore and heavy, his eyelids an even greater weight. He’d get out of bed and would begin his daily struggle to appear like a living human instead of a semi-reanimated corpse. 

But the sleep he’d gotten that previous night while lying on the couch with Arthur, _my God_ , that was heavenly. For the first time in recent memory, he had a deep and sound sleep, peaceful and nice. He _felt_ well-rested, no sensation of concrete-heavy limbs or agonizing ache behind his eyes, instead, he felt springy, energized, alert and awake like never before. He felt sated, a nice and fuzzy feeling inside of satisfaction after having slept well without any issue, a slow comfort that coated his bones and made him feel content. 

So, this meant that Merlin, who always had sleepless nights and was a tried and true insomniac, had his first good night of shut-eye when he’d slept beside Arthur. 

So, the solution to his bouts of painfully long nights spent awake and trying in vain to fall asleep was to simply have Arthur in bed beside him so he could cuddle up with him.

 _Well, isn’t that just the most doable thing ever?_ he thought in annoyance. 

◈◈◈

Merlin managed to ease his nerves enough to leave his bedroom at around half past 11. 

He made his way down the hall, glad when he heard the shower running which meant Arthur was in the bathroom. Which _also_ meant that Merlin wasn’t going to have to see him just yet. 

He took comfort in that thought as he made his way around the kitchen. He put the kettle on for himself and started up the fancy espresso machine that Arthur adored, got a pan out, starting to make some breakfast, enough for the both of them. Scrambled eggs. since Arthur didn’t like eating eggs any other way (any other way was _blasphemous_ , according to the blond), sizzling bacon and some slices of bread in the toaster. 

“Is cooking something you’re going to take up now?” Arthur asked with a good-natured chuckle when he entered the kitchen to see Merlin serving eggs onto two plates. “The treacle tart, now breakfast, you’re gonna be the next Gordon Ramsay aren’t you?”

Merlin set the frying pan down and turned to look at Arthur which might've been a mistake. A freshly showered Arthur was a much too handsome one. His hair was still slightly wet and his tee-shirt tight and clinging to the shape of his pecs and biceps. The low-slung sweatpants that he wore only drew attention to the fit inverted triangle shape of his body as wide shoulders tapered down to a narrow waist. _Why does he have to fucking look like that?_ Merlin thought to himself in passing sometimes. The blond was smiling softly, casually, making his way over to the coffee machine and getting his morning fix of caffeine, as if nothing has happened. As if they were just regular Merlin and Arthur, with no cuddling having occurred the previous night. He didn’t seem awkward or like he knew about what had happened. He just seemed like regular old Arthur, with his charming smile and bright eyes. 

“I’m completely changing career paths from med to the culinary arts,” Merlin declared with a light chuckle as he handed Arthur his plate, motioning to the toast nearby. The blond grabbed a slice and went over to the kitchen island and sat at one of the tall stools while Merlin brought out some jams and marmalades from the fridge, setting them down on the island before going over himself with his plate. 

It seemed like any other morning. Arthur didn’t seem any the wiser to how they had woken up that morning, his arm around Merlin holding him and the raven-haired bloke’s head resting on his chest, hearing the steady and lulling constant beat of his heart. That fact eased Merlin’s nerves, he didn’t know what he would do if the amazing rapport and dynamic that they’d built since he'd moved in were tinged with awkwardness. He didn’t want to ruin the blossoming friendship that they had going on, not over his stupid _sleeping habits_. 

“Do you have any plans today, Merlin?” Arthur asked, spreading some jam on his slice of toast, wayward crumbs sprinkling down onto the countertop. 

The darker haired one of the two replied, “I’m going over to Gwen’s to study for a bit later. What about you?”

“Got an essay that I should’ve already started.” he chuckled, shaking his head and ducking his head to avoid the disapproving glance he knew he would get from Merlin.

And with that, it seemed that they got back in synch. Merlin scolded Arthur for being behind on his assignments and the conversation somehow led to movies. They debated who was a better Bond (“Arthur, excuse my French, but _what the fuck_ do you mean you prefer _Pierce Brosnan’s Bond?_ ”) and then continued to debate over movie musicals (“Merlin, if you haven’t seen Chicago when you’re more of a _mess_ than I thought,”) and then they returned to their infamous egg debate.

“Scrambled is the only way.”

“Let me once more propose an alternative: fried eggs.”

“ _Bleh_.”

“You’re _such_ a child, Pendragon.”

“And you’re a _sicko_ who likes eating a runny yolk mess!

◈◈◈

Merlin let out a grumbled attempt of a sigh as he entered the flat. 

His study session with Gwen had gone well, as was typical. They'd sat together at a table in the flat that she shared with Lance, papers, and pens were strewn about between open textbooks and their laptops. They'd spent hours poring over course material, revising their notes, furiously engulfing chapter after chapter of their textbooks. Lance, the angel that he was, would flutter into the room with a fond smile- _God, this man was hopelessly in love with his best friend and he couldn't be happier for them_ \- and a plate of sandwiches or some tea. He'd gone slightly red in the face when Merlin said that he was already proving himself fit for the role of the doting husband, quickly scurrying out.

“Don’t be a _fiend_ ,” Gwen had chuckled, shaking her head at him and pinching his leg. 

Merlin had let out an exaggerated cry of pain, throwing his head back. A wide smile spread across his face at Gwen’s fond chuckle, “It’s true though, he’s already established himself to be full husband material, Gwen.” 

He might’ve commented on her blushing face too, but her quick kick under the table to his shin was enough to quiet him and get him to focus on his sandwich and their studying again.

"You're looking quite…," Gwen said about an hour after, both of them having eaten well, as she searched absentmindedly for a picture that they were viewing for their anatomy class. Her voice drifted slightly as if she didn't know just how to say what she wanted to express. She looked up at him, meeting his expectant gaze, "You look nice."

"Nice?" Merlin parroted with a slight chuckle, arm stretching out to grab some crisps from the open bag that Lance had brought in some minutes earlier. 

Gwen shrugged, brushing some of her dark hair away from her face, "Yeah, you look...well, you look well-rested, Merlin.”

He froze mid-chew with a mouth full of cheddar cheese flavored crisps. 

"You look like you had a nice night's sleep," Gwen continued, pursing her lips when she looked up once more, this time seeing his paused expression. 

Merlin resumed chewing and he swallowed. "I did."

Gwen smiled softly. She was a worrier, that's why Merlin had always skirted around her questions regarding his sleeping schedule and how much rest he got until she finally weaseled the answer out of him. 

Sleep schedule? Non-existent.

A good night's rest? Don't know her. 

It was always Gwen who was sending him texts at three a.m. when she'd wake up to go to the bathroom. _"You better be asleep right now, Emrys'" t_ hey would read and Merlin could hear her chiding home through the screen. She always tried to get him to nap, would sit with him on the couch, Merlin's head in her lap as she gently carded her fingers through his messy hair. He'd never fall asleep, not really, more just slip into a peaceful stillness and his breathing would slow, his frame would relax. She knew that he wasn't really sleeping too, but hey, it got him to lie down and have some peace and quiet that she hoped at least helped in some way, so she wasn't going to call him out on it. 

"Do you know if something changed? Like, if something helped you sleep well last night?" she asked, looking at him with a hopeful expression. 

Merlin swallowed. What was he supposed to say? Well, actually, you know my roommate? The really nice guy that you insist I have a crush on _even though I don't_? Well, I fell asleep _cuddled up with him_ last night while we were watching Netflix.

What helped him get through the night? The comforting presence of someone sleeping beside him? The warmth radiating off another's body as he pressed himself against them? The secure feeling of Arthur's arm wrapped around him, bringing them together so that they were snuggled even closer?

"I baked a pie," Merlin answered simply. He nodded, "I think that maybe baking helps,"

"Baking, Merls?" it was Gwen's turn to echo now, arching a brow. 

Merlin responded with a shrug before he ducked his head to look at a passage in their anatomy textbook as if the nerve composition of the spine was somehow something he found super interesting. He didn't, he actually loathed their anatomy class most out of all his required courses. 

"I guess it's like...therapeutic? Gets me calm and helps channel my energy, I suppose," Merlin added on, hoping it made his lie more convincing. 

It wasn't even a lie per se. It could very well be that baking or that eating his mother's treacle tart was what had allowed him to gently drift off into a nice night of sleep. Not that those two were all that more manageable: he surely couldn't spend every night baking up some pastry and he knew it would be horrifically unhealthy to have a dinner that consisted of solely treacle tart. 

No, he knew what had allowed him to sleep so soundly. 

He knew well that it was Arthur.

It was pretty late when he arrived to the flat that he shared with the blond, and the only reason that the study session ended was that Gwen and Lance actually _had_ a sense of survival, unlike Merlin who very much felt that they could’ve gone on for a while longer. In the end, he’d left their flat, calling out a goodbye to Lance and pressing a kiss to Gwen’s head as he slipped on his windbreaker and headed down the steps to the sidewalk. He called out a promise to Gwen to send her a text when he got home safely, affectionately rolling his eyes at her as she shooed him away, a warm smile on her face as she watched him go.

Arthur was _quite_ proud to declare to Merlin that he’d finished his essay when the latter arrived to their shared flat. “I finished it, Merlin! I finished my essay!” Arthur’s voice floated out toward the vestibule where Merlin was, shrugging off his jacket and toeing out of his trainers, flexing his feet, “Honestly, it was for sure the best last-minute assignment I’ve ever done!”

“I’m glad you were able to do your two-week-long assignment in less than twenty-four hours, Arthur. I’m just _so_ proud of you” Merlin chuckled, calling back to Arthur as he rolled his shoulders. He set his bag down on the ground in the hall, deciding he’d get it later as he let out a small satisfied grunt at his joints popping quietly as he rolled his shoulders once more. The Emrys bloke felt somewhat tired. But not in the _“I’m a reanimated corpse walking this earth”_ sort of tired that he usually felt, no, not that. That one implied trudging limbs and a heavy and dull throbbing ache in his bones, a sensation that settled in his joins and made everything feel like it was such a laborious task. A pounding feeling behind his eyes but a buzzing mind that wouldn’t let him rest when he closed them. No, what he felt was different. 

He felt tired in a _good_ way. Not like he was lugging an entire week’s worth of restless nights.

“I’m going to ignore the sarcasm and take that as genuine praise, Merlin,” Arthur commented as Merlin came to be at the entranceway of the sitting room, still looming out in the hall, leaning against the doorframe. “I’m proud of myself too, _Mer_ lin,” the Pendragon bloke proclaimed, a smug look crossing his face. His handsome face that looked cast in a celestial glow in the light of the t.v. that was playing a footy match (“How can you even watch this, Arthur? They’re just running around and tripping each other!”), as if he was some sort of storybook prince from medieval times with his regal features and pouty mouth and ruffled blond hair illuminated liquid gold in the light…

He realized too late that he’d been staring while Arthur had been talking. 

“Oh, yeah, sure,” he blurted out, feeling a slight pink color emerge at his cheeks, a rosy flush that he prayed wasn’t too noticeable in the dim lighting of the entranceway into the living room. 

Arthur nodded, “Want me to make some popcorn too?”

Merlin, who still _didn’t know what he had signed up for_ , just nodded again. It seemed like the best response. “Yeah. Caramel though, you heathen,” he added, knowing well that Arthur hated caramel popcorn, smiling slightly at the livid look on the blond’s face.

The other’s loud sound of disgust had him laughing gently. “Fine, I’ll make some caramel for you, Merlin. I’ll be a civilized adult rather than a _grass-eating five year old_ and make some cheese ones for myself.”

“Oh, I'm a grass-eating five-year-old now?”

“Did I _stutter_ , Emrys?”

Their little banter still hadn’t cleared up what he had signed up for though. He didn’t want to bring up that he hadn’t been paying attention to Arthur, what would he even say? _I was distracted because in the light you look like an angelic deity of beauty?_ No, no, no. So, deciding to just roll with the punches, he announced, “I’m going to change but I’ll be right back.”

Once in his bedroom, Merlin sighed. His eyes wandered to his digital clock as he undressed and put on some comfier clothes: an oversized waffle-knit sweater that was soft as a cloud that he’d gotten from Gaius last Christmas and some lounge pants. He switched his socks for another pair, fluffier and cozy in a periwinkle blue color. 11:34 read the clock, he noticed, and he let out a deep breath. 

He felt tired, but a _pleasant_ sort of tired. Which was not only strange because the tired that Merlin knew could only be described as painful and incessant not warm and fuzzy, but also because he wasn’t used to feeling tired at 11:34. _It isn’t even midnight yet_ , he thought to himself as he hugged his arms to his chest, gaze remaining on the digital clock as if he was in a staredown with an enemy. As if by keeping his eyes on the digital clock that sat on his bedside table its fluorescent blue numbers would shift to say that it was actually 3:00 a.m. which would make his tired feeling much more familiar.

“Merlin! _Oi_!” he heard Arthur shout, slightly startling. 

“I’m _coming_!” he yelled out in response. 

“C’mon mate, hurry over! I’ve got your childish popcorn!”

When he emerged into the living room again he saw that Arthur had switched the tv away from the footy game and was starting up Netflix. “So, we’re on episode 15 now, mate,” Arthur explained, looking up at him with a smile when he saw Merlin enter the room, patting the couch beside him. He scrolled along the streaming platform’s home page until he found what he was looking for and then pressed play, the next episode of Eglantine starting up again as Merlin took a seat.

 _Ah, our show,_ Merlin realized with a sort of warm twinge in his chest as he accepted the bowl of caramel popcorn that was handed to him. 

Watching the show with Arthur was entertaining as ever. They shared theories early on regarding who they thought was behind the crime, bickering constantly about it (“It’s obviously the maid, Merlin!” “See, Arthur, now that’s just your distaste for the working class coming out again.”). They’d excitedly effuse about the production which was sleek and glamorous and _sumptuous_ , a perfect recreation of 1930s Australia, ogling at the costumes and set design. They would laugh as they joked about _them_ being criminal investigators as well, arguing back and forth over who would make for a better sleuth.

“You would be _so_ bad, Arthur,” Merlin laughed loudly, reveling in the indignant look that crossed Arthur’s face, mouth agape.

“Wh-what do you _mean_ , Merlin?” Arthur cried out, sputtering out before he munched on some of his popcorn, alternating between glaring at Merlin and watching the telly. 

Rolling his eyes and making sure to swallows his mouthful of _deliciously sweet and salty caramel popcorn_ (“I can’t believe you like that stuff, Merls, honest”), he elaborated, smirking slightly, “Well, you _clotpole_ , you’d be just like Eglantine in the sense that you’d traipse in and all _prattishly_ demand information from people!”

“I’m not sure if I’m more horrified that you called me or Eglantine a clotpole, Merlin.”

“Obviously not Eglantine, Arthur! She’s _amazing_ , when she does it it’s charming, it’s spunky,” turning his attention back to the screen to glance for a moment at the program’s female detective, looking away from Arthur’s faux-indignant face, he added, “You’re just...y’know, a _clotpole_.”

“What even _is_ a clotpole though?” Arthur demanded with a small laugh, gently shoving Merlin. The dark-haired one of the pair hadn’t realized they’d drifted closer and closer as the episode continued and the storyline before them progressed. If he had noticed it then he’d note how he could feel the warmth radiating from Arthur’s body, how he could smell the lingering spicy remnants of the blond’s cologne that remained after a long day. “You _always_ call me that and I still have no clue what it even means, Merlin!”

Merlin turned to look at Arthur, cocking his head, “Hmm...”, he hummed pensively, a smirk toying at the corners of his lips, “In two words?”

“Please,” Arthur rolled his eyes playfully. 

“Arthur. Pendragon,” Merlin answered, a cheeky smile on his face. He punctuated each word with a sharp jab to Arthur’s side, eliciting a mix of a loud grumble and a squealing sound that Arthur would _never_ admit to making as he crowded into the corner of the sofa. 

His leg kicked out, pushing softly and kicking too at Merlin who let out a delighted cackling laugh. The dark-haired bloke continued in his poking tirade against Arthur’s side though, earning an increased comical mix of high-pitched squawks and loud grunts in response to his jabs. The dark-haired bloke let out a triumphant hurrah when he was able to overpower the Pendragon bloke, cheering himself on with a congratulatory yowl as he got enough of the upper hand over Arthur to topple him onto his back on the couch. Arthur’s bowl of buttered popcorn spilled off of the couch, though neither of them noticed it. 

“Surrender, you heathen!” Merlin proclaimed with a wide toothy grin, poking at Arthur’s legs that flailed wildly as they both laughed, filling the flat with the sounds of their roughhousing. 

“Never, you _wench_ !” Arthur cried out in an overly dramatic voice, sounding like some parody of a medieval warrior’s battle cry, as he continued poking his foot at Merlin’s legs, shoving him back, putting up a good fight. He was decidedly _not_ going down without an effort. Arthur felt a surge of pride when he was able to turn the tables on Merlin, cackling gleefully when he managed to kick the med student with sufficient force that he was sent toppled back, landing with an “oomph” against the fluffy and big cushions of the couch. 

Merlin was disoriented, in the typical way that one is when their opponent in their impromptu tickle-and-poking fight gains an upper hand, and he let out a loud laugh, the sound coming straight from his belly. He began to shift on his elbows, laughing still, going to sit up. But then Arthur was grabbing hold of his arms and pinning them down, his laugh catching when suddenly the blond was appearing above him with a big smug smile on his face, expression cocky and cheeks flushed. Arthur’s golden hair was messed up, tousled from their boisterous activities, and his breath was quicker, their close proximity making Merlin feel just the slightest blow of Arthur’s exhales on his face. It smelled like artificial cheddar and God- _we’re so close_ , Merlin realized in alarm, the blond hovering over him, eyes like damn gemstones. 

“Do you surrender now, Merls?” the Pendragon bloke asked, eyes twinkling bright with mischief and looking triumphant. It was as if he hadn’t been clued into how close they were, how their hips were positioned above another. As if he didn’t feel how their legs were pressed together, how Merlin’s subconscious was indulgently _savoring_ in the feeling of Arthur’s weight on him.

“I..y-yeah,” Merlin stammered out, his mouth parted, feeling like the situation couldn’t be real.

Arthur’s smile shifted slightly, looking more like a smirk. “Who’s the heathen, now?” 

_Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck_ , Merlin’s mind was racing a mile a minute.

It had been easy to ignore what he felt for Arthur, really, he’d been doing a mighty good job at it since they’d started living together. It had been so natural to come to feel an attraction and the beginnings of feelings toward Arthur, what with his cinema star good looks and his, under his prattish facade, good heart and charming personality. How he’d wait up for Merlin to come back from an afternoon lecture so they could go get some Vietnamese food from that place that they’d found a couple of blocks from their flat. How he’d do his best to talk Merlin off the ledge when he’d be panicking in the morning over an exam he was going to have in a few hours, handing him a plate of eggs and sausage and pushing him towards the table so that he’d get something in his stomach before leaving. How he’d loudly sing in the shower to ABBA and deny it afterward (“Wait, what? A- _ABBA_ ? No, Merls, what the hell are you on about? I don’t sing, firstly, and even if I was, I’d _never_ sing ABBA”) and the stilted dance moves he’d make in the hall when Merlin would play music. How he self-consciously always seemed to check if Merlin was laughing first before he too would start chuckling, how he loved horror movies and demanded that Merlin comply with an Argento marathon, how he smiled brighter than ever when he talked about his little sister Morgana who was studying abroad at a boarding school in Switzerland.

All of those things, and many more, had made Merlin realize that, yes, okay, he was wholeheartedly into Arthur, “head-over-heels” is what Gwen would claim. Merlin had decided that it was best to keep those feelings out of sight and out of mind, and so he’d devoted himself to mainly seeing Arthur as a friend, as a good mate, as a nice friend that he came home to every day. There was the matter too that Merlin was pretty sure that Arthur was straight, or at the very least attracted mostly to women. There’d been a day that Arthur hadn’t come back home to sleep and had later casually mentioned that he’d spent the night at a girl’s place. Elena, he said, and Lance later told Merlin that Arthur and the girl had dated for a bit back when they were teenagers in sixth form. Merlin had assumed then that there was something going on with Arthur and Elena again, or not, but at least he’d made the ruling that Arthur was markedly _not_ interested in him.

But having Arthur hovering above him like he was? With those dazzling sapphire eyes twinkling despite the slight under-eye bags that betrayed his tiredness? With the smattering of barely-visible freckles along the bridge of his nose and his cheeks? That little scar on his jaw, that he’d gotten from his childhood adventures in the dense woods behind his grandmother’s estate, more visible than ever? 

Oh God, fuck, _fuck_ , it was too much.

The good thing was that just as he felt that his body was going to explode, Arthur moved off of him. “I always win, Merlin, _always_!” the blond chuckled, lifting his hand up into a triumphant fist bump as he shuffled off of the darker haired bloke and made his way back to his former seat on the couch. 

A weak smile appeared on Merlin’s face as he nodded dumbly. He felt slightly dazed as he replied with an awkward chuckle, “I’ll get you next time, Pendragon.” 

“Yeah, you tell yourself that, mate,” Arthur shot back, smiling before his gaze turned to the floor where his bowl of popcorn lay, half of its contents spilled out all over the rug, “Oh, bloody Hell!”

Merlin frowned, not having even noticed the popcorn that had been knocked over during their battle and then erupted into laughter at the sight of Arthur anxiously collecting as many kernels as he could in his hands. “You’re such a dumbarse, Pendragon,” he laughed, a full loud belly laugh, and just like that, whatever I’m-in-love-with-my-straight-roommate panic had descended on him was gone. 

“You’re probably the one who knocked it over, Emrys!” Arthur cried out, beginning some rant on how it was part of Merlin’s vendetta against proper adult popcorn, exaggeratingly shaking his head and gruffing out sad sighs, “Really, it’s not admissible, but understandable for you to favor caramel, even if you aren’t in kindergarten, but to attack _my_ popcorn? That’s low, truly-”

“I’m gonna get a broom,” Merlin called out to the ranting blond as he made his way to the hall closet, chuckling as he did. 

They managed to clean up as much of the popcorn as they could. Or well, as much as they could until they were over it and anxious to find out who was behind the episode’s murder. Arthur got another bowl of popcorn and they’d put the broom away and soon enough they were back on the couch, eagerly awaiting the reveal of the criminal, murmuring out little comments about the character’s clothes and the actors. In the end, it hadn’t been the maid as Arthur had presumed. Rather, it had been the victim’s vindictive sister. 

“See, Arthur? You can’t blame everything on the middle class,” Merlin chided in a lighthearted manner, smiling widely when Arthur rolled his eyes. 

“I’m not classist, Merlin,” Arthur replied as they watched the sister be taken into custody. “If I was I certainly wouldn’t be associating myself with you, for starters.”

“My bloodline is mighty pure, I’ll have you know!” Merlin cried out in protest, batting away one of Arthur’s hands that was drawing closer to poke at his side, “The great Emrys family practically owns Ealdor!”

“Sure they do, Merls, sure,” he laughed as the episode wrapped up. 

The next episode started and soon enough it ended too and then another and then, once more without realizing it, they had fallen asleep on the couch. _“Are you still watching?”_ the t.v. screen asked though both had dozed off, Arthur’s bowl of buttery popcorn having slipped onto the floor again as the pair drifted closer to one another in their sleep.

◈◈◈ 

Merlin was awoken by his phone emitting an annoying pinging sound that he had set up to be his alarm. The sound had sounded far off at the beginning like it was in a separate room before it was the only thing that Merlin could hear, a loud and repeated _ding-ding-ding_ that droned on.

His eyes opened when the sound suddenly became too much to ignore, his eyelids lifting groggily and then narrowing at the onslaught of light in the room. He blinked a couple of times, feeling the peaceful ease of sleep begin to dispel itself from his bones where it had settled as he opened his eyes fully. The light was coming from one of the windows since the curtains weren’t fully drawn. The open curtains allowed for golden sunlight to inundate the living room, make the room shine with a morning glow and-

Wait, he was in the living room?

Still waking up, it took him a moment to take in his situation. He was lying on the couch with a warm body pressed against him, an arm around his waist, holding him close. Merlin could feel Arthur’s chest rise and fall slowly against his back, could feel the warm brush of Arthur’s exhales against the crook of his neck, could feel the comfortable weight of Arthur’s arm along his narrow waist which brought them closer together.

The Emrys bloke swallowed, trying to not let his mind go into a panicked tailspin because _Oh God, it happened again, he had fallen asleep on the couch with Arthur again and didn’t it feel so nice to have Arthur’s wider frame behind him, warm and firm and holding him close and_ ….

And they were cuddling-Merlin as the goddamned little spoon-and he’d just had the best night of sleep that he could remember.

Merlin, taking in a sharp inhale at the realization, began to squirm, trying to extricate himself out of Arthur’s warm embrace. He was trying to extricate himself, his phone still ding-ding-dinging with his alarm, when he felt Arthur’s grip around his waist tighten. 

“Stop moving so damn much,” came Arthur’s voice, gruff with lingering sleep.

Merlin froze instantly. 

“Just five more minutes, it’s fine,” Arthur murmured and Merlin could literally _feel_ the blond speak directly into his ear. Arthur's warm breath tickling his earlobe, and it sent a shiver up his spine.

Merlin, at an utter loss regarding the situation and what to do, simply stuttered out, “I’m g-going to be late for m-my lecture,” as he practically threw himself off of the couch. He nearly toppled face-first into the floor, managing to barely stabilize himself by gripping one of the sofa cushions. He stood up on shaky legs, his cheeks quickly coloring a deep rosy hue as he dared to glance back at the couch and at Arthur.

The blond, now waking up too, was rubbing at one of his eyes with the back of his hand. He let out a groggy little grunt. His golden hair was spiked up in some parts near the back of his head and some tresses looked feather-soft as they fanned over his forehead. Merlin's hands itched to move and have his fingers run through those golden locks. His shirt and sweatpants were sleep-rumpled and when Arthur stretched his arms and legs the Avalon School tee that he wore rode up and exposed the lower part of his stomach. The unveiled lower chiseled shape of his abdomen, revealed sliver of toned and golden skin, that tantalizing image of his Adonis belt and the trail of fuzzy hair that disappeared into the waistband of his low-slung grey sweatpants and-

“I’m going to be late for my lecture,” Merlin repeated even though it was very much a Sunday, snapping out of his daze as he reached for his phone which lay on the floor. He swiped across the screen, silencing his alarm and noticing how he was shaking ever so slightly. 

Arthur, sitting up on the couch, nodded, still looking a bit bleary-eyed, “Alright, mate.” 

Merlin nodded too. “O-Okay,” he replied, slipping his phone into his pocket but unable to move from his position about a foot away from the couch where Arthur was rolling his shoulders. He felt like he was rooted to the spot as if his feet were planted on the polished wood and the fine Afghan rug below his soles.

“Everything alright, Merls?” Arthur asked, followed by a small yawn as he too stood up. He looked at Merlin, suddenly looking very much not like he had woken up a minute and a half ago, his blue eyes clear as they met his own. 

Merlin didn’t even think about it before an apology came tumbling out past his peony colored lips, “I-I’m sorry for falling asleep on you, Arthur. I guess I just sort of passed out midway through the show, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean t-”

Arthur’s amused little chuckle stopped his rambling in its tracks. “It’s alright, Merlin,” he replied simply, sending the darker haired med student a small smile as he stood up.

Merlin nodded, continuing, “Yeah, yeah, just...I’m sorry, again, I know I already said that but I just think I should apologize for falling asleep on you like that and-”

The Pendragon male reached out, placing one of his large hands on Merlin’s shoulder, effectively silencing him again, his mouth parted around another stream of words. “I said that it’s fine, Merls,” Arthur stated again, and then he quirked a brow, “You slept well though, right?”

Merlin paused for a moment before he replied. “Yes,” he said, his voice much softer and quieter than he’d expected for it to come out.

A boyishly charming smile appeared on Arthur’s face as he said, “That’s what matters then.”

And then he was walking out of the room with a final peace sign sent over his shoulder, his peachy footie-toned arse looking amazing in those sweatpants as he left, leaving Merlin standing awkwardly in the middle of the living room, feeling confused and not knowing what he was going to do with his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed the fic! I'd greatly appreciate any kudos, comments or feedback if you'd like to leave some!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed the fic! I'd greatly appreciate any kudos, comments or feedback if you'd like to leave some!


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